


Mirror Game

by Minutia_R



Category: Chronicles of Chrestomanci - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: Bondage, Incest, Mirrors, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-08
Updated: 2011-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-15 12:16:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minutia_R/pseuds/Minutia_R
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Droit de seigneur!" Janet laughed.  "Do you know, I like that.  Shall we play lords and wenches?"</i></p><p><i>"I have a better idea," said Julia.  "Do you remember the mirror game?"</i></p><p>Janet is having trouble adjusting to university.  Julia and Roger try to cheer her up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mr R----](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Mr+R----).



> Thanks to dracutgrl for beta!

Julia put her arms around Janet's waist and drew Janet into her lap. It was a comfortable, squashy, familiar lap, and Janet tucked her cheek into the soft curve of Julia's neck and shoulder, and sobbed.

"Oh, yes," Julia murmured, "I can tell you've been enjoying university immensely."

"I have, really," Janet said, between hiccups. "The lectures are fascinating, and there are libraries that could swallow the castle's whole and have room for dessert. And the girls are very nice, only it's like they all come from another world—don't laugh." Janet started sniffling again. "I thought I was starting to understand 12A. I hadn't realized how much everyone in the castle had just got _used_ to me. And now I've got to start all _over_ and if I ever do manage to settle in here I'll have to go somewhere _else_ and I'll never fit in _anywhere_ and it never _ends_!"

One of Julia's arms snaked tighter around Janet's waist, and the other hand stroked her hair. "Where do you think you're going, Roger?" she said.

"If you girls are going to be crying, you'll have to do it without me," said Roger. Janet, with her face still buried in Julia's neck, couldn't see him, but she heard his shoes scrape against the floor. "You know I can't stand crying."

"Janet isn't crying for her own amusement, you ass," said Julia. "If you don't like it, do something about it. Come back here and kiss her."

Roger's footsteps stopped for the space of several breaths, and then came closer again. Janet's head came up in surprise, in time to catch Roger's kiss, which was aimed at her cheek, on her mouth. It was the briefest brush of lips against lips, cool and dry, and Janet let out a squeak.

"Sorry," said Roger, straightening up quickly. "I—It isn't funny, Julia."

"Typical!" said Julia. "Roger won't play unless you ask him _especially_."

Janet watched the stubborn set of Roger's shoulders as he turned to leave. And such nice broad shoulders—why had she never noticed? Or was it Roger who had changed, in the months since she'd left home? Not grown out of his fat, but grown _into_ it; he was impressively solid now, instead of awkward and pudgy. And surely he had not used to be so full of his own dignity—but he had never kissed her before, either.

"Roger," Janet said. "I liked it. Will you do it again?"

He turned around, the expression on his face as unreadable as—as someone else's she knew. He knelt by the couch where she and Julia sat, bringing his face level with her own; it was a low couch, and he was tall. He put a hand lightly on the back of her head, and leaned in close, and kissed her. She opened her mouth against his, and his tongue slid over her lips. He smelled of soap, and, faintly but ineradicably, of grease, and his hand shook a little when he took his face away.

"You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that, have you," said Roger.

"Have you?" said Janet. A lock of hair had fallen over his face, and she ran it between her fingers. He was wearing it longer than he used to; it curled. Julia grazed her fingernails down Janet's legs and radiated smugness. "You never said."

"I didn't realize it myself at first. And then, you're so . . . ." He touched his thumb, hesitatingly, to the tip of her nose, then her lips. "Well, look at you. And look at me. And you never seemed to notice that I wasn't your brother." He shrugged, and looked away. "Besides, there you were, alone in the world. I felt like I ought to defend you, not—take advantage of you. I kept thinking, what would Chrestomanci have to say: 'I didn't realize you read those appalling books, too, Roger. But surely you don't imagine that the living in a castle entitles you to exercise droit de seigneur.'"

Julia snorted. "You spend too much time thinking about Daddy's hypothetical response to your hypothetical sex life."

"Droit de seigneur!" Janet laughed. "Do you know, I _like_ that. Shall we play lords and wenches?"

"I have a better idea," said Julia. "Do you remember the mirror game?"

"Of course; it was my first patent," said Roger. "Janet, why have you gone pink?"

"Oh. Well," said Janet. She squirmed, and Julia dug her fingers into Janet's waist, and chuckled. "Once when Julia and I were playing, Julia came up with some . . . refinements."

"They're quite good," said Julia. " _I_ could have taken out a patent, if I didn't have the family's reputation to consider. Shall we show him, Janet? Up you get."

Janet stood, and so did Roger, looking from Janet to Julia with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. Julia fished a pocket mirror out of her handbag and laid it on the table alongside cups and paper twists and other detritus of tea. Then she produced a voluminous handkerchief. Janet actually shivered at the sight of the handkerchief. She had missed Julia and her magic fingers.

Julia gave Janet a heart-stopping look, and tied a knot in her handkerchief. The mirror floated upwards. Janet stretched her arms above her head and took hold of the mirror. Julia twisted the handkerchief around the mirror, and continued winding deftly downwards, the whisper of cotton against Janet's wrists bringing her whole body alive at once; her scalp prickled, her toes curled. Julia tied one last knot, and the mirror floated an inch or two higher, leaving Janet's toes just grazing the floor. Julia stepped aside, with a flourish like a stage magician showing off a particularly good trick.

"Oh. My," said Roger. His eyes were bright enough for Janet to see herself in, and his lips were parted in appreciation. She had to look away from the naked intensity on his face. And then she had to look back. If he had ever looked at her like that before, she _definitely_ would have noticed. "So this is what you girls were getting up to for hours in Janet's room when we all thought you were reading."

"This and reading, of course," said Julia. She moved behind Janet and lifted her hair out of the way to plant a lazy row of kisses on the back of her neck. Julia began to undo the buttons on the front of Janet's blouse, and Janet could follow her progress by the shivery impressions of Julia's fingers, and the arrested tracking of Roger's eyes. "Why, what were you boys getting up to in the shed when everyone thought you were building flying machines?"

Roger swallowed. "Only ever building flying machines."

"Tch. Boys. No sense," said Julia. "Help me with her skirts, will you?"

"Janet?" said Roger.

Janet grinned and wiggled her fingers at him. "I'm certainly not going to be able to do it myself," she said.

Julia unhooked the catches on Janet's skirt and underskirt, and Roger slid them over her hips, with an "Ah," as soft as the falling silk. Janet tried to lean into his hands, but it was impossible; she had no traction.

The rest of Janet's clothes came off, one by one. Shoes, stockings—Julia and Roger each dealt with a stocking and its associated garter, while Janet twitched and giggled. Julia's fingers lingered over Janet's bottom, working off her step-ins. Roger puzzled over Janet's bra and camisole.

"I've got a pair of scissors in my bag," Julia offered. "I can put the clothes back together afterwards." So Roger sliced a neat line down Janet's front, cool metal against her skin, until her underthings hung open by her sides along with her blouse. Julia trailed a hand down Janet's body; breast, waist, hip, thigh.

"Perfect. Just like a china doll," she said. "Ah, Janet, you should see yourself."

"Why not?" said Roger. He swept a space clear on the table and began taking things out of his pockets and laying them in a circle: a sixpence, a glass marble, a few tiny dried flowers, a twisted wire filament, a folded and refolded scrap of paper. He passed his hand over them, and Janet's bookcases and desk and the door to the hallway vanished. They were replaced by a flat reflective surface; by Julia, a merry gloat in her dark eyes as she nuzzled Janet's breast; by Roger coming round her other side, lifting the other breast lightly in his fingers, touching the tip of his tongue to the tip of her nipple. And Janet, not as she usually saw herself in her mirror, but as Julia and Roger saw her: white and gold, and blue eyes wide with wanting, perfectly desirable.

"We _should_ take out that patent," said Roger. "We'd be coining money."

Janet giggled unsteadily. "Method for displaying and rendering accessible the charms of a lady," she suggested.

"Accessible," said Julia, smiling like she liked the taste of it. Then she took Janet's chin in her hand and tasted Janet's mouth instead. She clasped Janet to her with her other arm. Julia's body was hot even through the layers of her clothing, all lush softness of breasts and belly. Roger tucked up behind Janet, and traced the same line of kisses that Julia had placed there earlier. Janet's belly went warm and tight, and she whimpered into Julia's mouth.

"God, Janet," Julia whispered, and drew away. She clambered up onto the table, taking care not to disturb Roger's spell, and kissed Janet again, backwards and upside-down. There was a growing ache along the inside of Janet's arms, and when Roger stepped in front of her and ran a hand down her leg, lifting a little to get to the sensitive spot behind her knee, Janet wrapped the other one around him, too, grateful to relieve the weight a bit.

Roger went still for a moment, then put his hands underneath Janet's back and eased her legs over his shoulders. Janet's head tilted further back, and she watched Julia draw up her own skirts and step out of her underpants. Julia's thighs were round and pale and warm, and the slick pinkness of her sex was just visible in its nest of curls, and smelled intoxicating. Julia leaned forward, and Janet stretched her neck and licked, as Julia gasped above her and Roger roved his hands and mouth over Janet's own body below.

Julia's breath came raggedly, and then in sharp, soft moans. Janet worked her hips against Roger's shoulders as his blunt, strong fingers dug into her buttocks, and his tongue found her own secret places. Then Julia sighed, and sat heavily on the table, and slid down to the floor. "Roger," she said, "let me."

Janet winced at the wrench in her arms as Roger lowered her upright. She saw herself in the mirror again, less perfect now; her face flushed and panting, her golden curls tangled. There were red blotches on her left breast where Julia had sucked and nibbled, and the impressions of Roger's thumbs on her hips and waist would probably be bruises by tomorrow. She could not believe how magnificent she was.

Julia knelt at Janet's feet, her hair tumbled down the graceful curve of her back, her skirts pooled on the floor. Her face was hidden between Janet's legs, and her hands and mouth were busy—Roger was lovely, but Julia was more practiced. Roger stood behind Janet. He had let his trousers fall, and pressed her against him, skin to skin; soft against her back, and hard against her buttocks. His breath was a hot wordless hiss in her ear as he moved faster, and Janet gasped "Julia—" because Julia had taken her face away.

" _Wait_ for it," breathed Julia, meeting Janet's eyes in the mirror. Roger's hands tightened around her middle, and he shuddered against her with a hot and spreading wetness. Then he settled back against the table, sleepy-eyed. Julia touched Janet with her tongue again, lightly at first, then slippery and sweet and firm.

"Look," Roger whispered, but Janet had to shut her eyes against the brightness of her climax. The next thing she saw was Julia in front of her, helping her down.

Janet had been putting on her own 12A clothes without problems for years, but she was too fumble-fingered to do it now. Julia magicked her bra and camisole back together, and Roger buttoned her blouse; Roger helped her step into her skirts and Julia fastened the catches. Then Janet lay back on the couch with her head on Roger's lap while Julia did up her stockings and garters.

"Will you be all right—really, truly?" Julia said. "There's no need at all to feel trapped. If university isn't working out, some alternative can be found—that's a quote from Daddy, by the way."

"He also says to remember that good sense is in shorter supply than magical talent." Roger twisted his mouth wryly. "At least, I _think_ that was to your address, and not to mine."

Janet laughed and rubbed her face against the curve of his belly. "Tell him thank you," she said, "but I'm not running back home at the first sign of trouble." She sighed. "Only I miss everyone so much. And now I'm going to miss you two even more."

"Well, we're not enchanters," said Roger. "But that doesn't mean you can't give us a call when you want us."

Julia tied off Janet's garter and kissed her on the knee. "Don't be sad, china doll," she said. "You needn't run back home if you'd rather not. Home is perfectly willing to come to you."


End file.
